I finally break eye contact. “Philly’s up to bat,” I say, turning back to the thing that matters and makes sense. Baseball.
“Last chance. You still sure they’ll score?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Let’s make it interesting,”
“Trying to double the bet again?”
“Double the bet or get up to some trouble.”
This is exactly what Mel was talking about. I never gamble. I don’t entertain bullshit from strangers. And I definitely don’t get up to any trouble.
But there’s something about this kid and the way he keeps staring me right in the pupils, challenging me like he’s not scared of my bark.
He’s gotten under my skin. And after the conversation with Mel, I’m itching to prove something to myself, that I’m not in some deep rut, cranky and old and stuck.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Trouble,” I say simply, not shutting him down.
He pulls his top teeth across his bottom lip, just barely. “Philly wins, and I’ll suck your cock.”
I blink. Did he just say what I think he said?
Something in me prickles, defensive and uncertain. Pushing away, even though something else is pulling me back.
Orlando looks at me, trying to keep his cocky smile up, but I can feel him wavering as he waits for my answer.
When my head clears, my dick is hard in my pants.
What the fuck?
It’s some sort of biological reaction. The high stakes of the pitch meeting earlier, and now this guy testing me, it’s all got my blood surging.
“Orlando,” I say cautiously, scolding him with my eyes. I’m unwilling or unable to respond directly, acknowledge what he said and make it real.
This feels dangerous, but like a storm coming in over the ocean, I can’t look away.
He arches an eyebrow. “Stakes too high? Or you just worried because Philly is clearly about to eat shit?”
A defensive growl escapes from the back of my throat. He keeps poking fun at my team, provoking me.
He notes the reaction with an arch to his eyebrow. “That growl sounds like a yes.”
“The only way you’re getting my cock is if I shove it in your mouth to shut you up.”
The words escape before I can think better. Conflicting, confused desires crash through me. He’s trying to play with me, throw me off balance, but he’s only in his twenties. He’s some cocky young guy talking crap about my old team, and the urge to teach him a lesson rises up like a tidal wave.
Almost as strong as my erection, still rock hard.
But I am not about to let another man suck my cock. There’s no way.
This is just talk. Although I can feel the effect it has on Orlando when he shudders slightly, earning a response deep inside me.
His leg presses against my leg, and I tense. I can feel his strength as he rubs up on me, and it’s surprising, almost scary. “I knew you were fun.”
Something sparks through me, maybe the thrill of pushing against something forbidden. It’s like breaking through and sprinting to steal third, danger and surprise everywhere.
Risk that jolts me awake.
